


In Breath and Being

by Shanrocks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Archery, Argent family feels, Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanrocks/pseuds/Shanrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little snippet of time with Chris and Isaac between the end of season 3b and the start of season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Breath and Being

Chris knows the moment Isaac catches his scent. He's been watching the kid for a little while, standing beside a cropping of thick brush, not quite hiding, just observing quietly. Isaac has been coming into these woods regularly to practice, the same woods in which Allison used to spend hours upon hours practicing and honing her skills as well. Chris watches as Isaac raises the bow into position again and nocks the arrow, a look of steely concentration on his face as he aims at the paper target stapled to a tree a few hundred feet away. The arrow snaps free and thunks into the tree a few rings outside of the intended bullseye. Chris hears Isaac curse under his breath as he reaches over his shoulder for another arrow, but he stops mid grab and sniffs the air, head tilting in Chris' direction.

“I see you're a good fifty feet farther back from the target than where you practiced last week,” Chris says as he steps down the hill and heads towards Isaac. “You're learning fast.”

Isaac just shrugs and fits another arrow against the bowstring. As he lines himself up for another shot Chris stands alongside him and gently touches the underside of the teen's elbow.

“Raise your arm a bit. There, that's it. Now take a breath and relax.” Isaac follows Chris' directions and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The string stays steadily taut as Isaac holds the arrow in place taking aim. The release is quick and the arrow whistles through the air like a missile before sinking just inside the red of the bullseye.

For a split second Chris sees the corners of Isaac's mouth turn up and he can't help but mirror the action. He clasps Isaac's shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“Like I said, you're learning fast.”

Isaac dips his curly head and shrugs again. “Heightened senses and all that. Perks of being a werewolf, I guess.”

Chris is shaking his head before Isaac even finishes. “Don't sell yourself short.” He uses the grip on Isaac's shoulder to turn the teen so he can look him in the eye. “Archery takes skill and excellent eye-hand coordination. Werewolf senses or not, you're good at this.”

Chris watches Isaac search his face for a few seconds, almost like the kid is waiting for a punchline, and then he sees him relax and smile for the second time in as many minutes. And it hits Chris all at once that Isaac still isn't used to any kind of praise. He makes a mental note to do it more often. It's going to take a long time to undo all the things that have been done to this kid, but Chris knows he's up for the challenge. Oh, if only Gerard Argent could see him now.

The bow case and navy blue backpack sitting on the ground against the base of a nearby tree catches Chris' attention. He spots a pair of Chinese ring daggers poking out of an open side zipper pocket of the backpack. He thinks of his family, he thinks of hunters, and he remembers the reason why he came out here to find Isaac in the first place.

“I got a call today from the sheriff of Beacon Hills,” he says slowly. Isaac visibly tenses and looks away, fidgeting with the bow in his hands. “Some _things_ have come up.” He tries to catch Isaac's eye with no luck. “They need help.”

He watches Isaac carefully, noting the stiffness of the boy's shoulders and the slight tremor in his hands that Chris has come to recognize as barely controlled anxiety. The bow in Isaac's hand now has the kid's rapt attention as he glides his fingers along the bowstring, carefully feeling for any ruptures or tears.

“I have to go back,” Chris says. And there it is. The one thing Chris Argent hoped he wouldn't have to say for a very long time, if ever.

Isaac takes a quick breath and lowers his bow. He looks out across the expanse of the woods and chews on his lower lip. Chris can tell the boy is mulling over something, so he doesn't push. He just patiently waits him out.

“I _can't_ ,” Isaac finally whispers so softly Chris almost misses it. “I just, I don't, I--”

“Hey, hey,” Chris says as he reaches for Isaac, placing a comforting hand on the back of the boy's neck. “Look at me. Isaac? Look at me.” He waits for Isaac to comply. “You don't have to go back, okay? I understand if you're not ready. Believe me, I understand. And I'm not asking you to go with me. This is just,” Chris sighs and swallows thickly. “This is just something I can't ignore.”

The two of them stand in silence for a few moments. Chris drops his hand and paces away running his fingers through his short cropped hair. If he's honest with himself, he'll admit he's glad Isaac doesn't want to go back to Beacon Hills. Right here, right now, Isaac is safe. And Chris intends to keep it that way. But Chris himself doesn't have another option. He _has_ to go back.

“You have to protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Isaac says.

Chris turns, surprise alight in his eyes. But then he smiles. Of course Isaac would know. Of course he would understand.

“Yeah,” Chris replies.

The sky is turning pink with the setting sun. He's been out here watching Isaac practice a lot longer than he'd intended to. But he understands that it's the simple moments such as these, in the bit of peace he's found here and now, that makes it worth the adversity of returning to the chaos.

“C'mon, grab your stuff. Dinner should be just about ready at home.”

As Isaac jogs off to retrieve the arrows he'd shot, Chris notices something peculiar out of the corner of his eye. He walks closer to the oak tree that Isaac's backpack is setting against. In the bark of the trunk he can see that four letters have been meticulously carved. The first two letters look like they've been there for months and have dulled to gray with age, but they're etched deep and Chris is sure they'll be visible for years to come. He runs his fingers gently over the _'A. A.'_ and can't help the shaky breath that escapes his lips. But just underneath those letters are two more initials. These are fresh, the golden flesh of the wood beneath the rough bark is still damp with sap. The letters _'I. A.'_ are more jagged and sharp, but they're carved just as deep.

Chris hears Isaac's footsteps approach from behind him and he hastily bends over to pick up the teen's backpack, shrugging it onto his own shoulder. Isaac slides the recovered arrows into the quiver and places his bow into its case snapping the lid closed. He falls into step beside Chris as the two make their way out of the darkening woods. Their shoulders brush every now and then as they walk and make small talk about anything except Beacon Hills. But it's then, just in the short time it takes them to walk home, that Chris realizes the oak tree bears the very same tattoo that's emblazoned on his own heart.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title derived from this quote:
> 
> By choice, we have become a family, first in our hearts, and finally in breath and being.
> 
> -Richard Fischer


End file.
